Add to this the fact that half the album is not just previously unreleased but unheard, and you can imagine Record Collector readers convulsing in fits… “’68” has four tracks, two short, two long; all performed with multi-tracking by Wyatt, on drums, organ, piano, bass and vocals (with “Slow Walkin’ Talk” featuring Hendrix on bass). (I am reviewing a download version, but the physical release comes accompanied with a printed interview and photographs.)

The album is, what it is: prog-rock demo’s recorded with bare instrumentation - but they’re probably the best sounding “demo’s” I’ve ever heard. There are a few places where attention lags, but for the whole, these are remarkably executed pieces. “’68” starts with my favourite song on the album, “Chelsea” - a track not known to previously exist, before it was discovered on an acetate with “Rivmic Memories” in 2012! Its a yearning piece of melancholy, with Wyatt’s distinctive voice dancing across the organ, bass and drums. It ends with a very nice proggy breakdown, with the tender vocal accompanying an articulate bass venture, underpinned by reverbed drum hits. The next song on the album, “Rivmic Melodies”, is a collage of songs and sections; adding up to seventeen minutes of music. Unfortunately, the first five minutes or so, are taken up with the painful “alphabet” section. This was to end up being re-recorded on the second Soft Machine album - I hated it there, and I hate it here. Essentially, Wyatt sings and scats his way through the alphabet: not something that anyone should have to hear - and to worsen things, “Rivmic Memories” presents it in one long chunk, where Soft Machine’s “Volume Two” divided it into between-songs filler. Once the listener emerges from this, the song opens out into a nice piano/vocal piece; before devoting the rest of its time to piano/drums collusions and collisions. Along the way, there’s a beautiful, high-pitched piano solo; which speedily trills across the piano and drum skeleton - as well as more deranged sections with heavily echoed piano, that sound like early tape experiments. “Rivmic Memories” ends with  another passage driven by piano and vocals and a sweet, if twee, section where Wyatt sings his thanks to the members of the Jimi Hendrix Experience. “Slow Walkin’ Talk” is the second shorter piece on “’68”, and like “Chelsea” is a concise little song. Its nothing spectacular, a competent piece of garagey blues; but a competency made colourful by intelligent piano and bass playing - and knowing that Hendrix is playing that bass, does add a little excitement. The fourth and final track is “Moon In June” - a piece revisited by Soft Machine on “Third”. Its the longest piece here, over twenty minutes, and like “Rivmic Memories” its composed out of various fragments. These fragments run the whole gamut, from piano and vocal musings through to intense prog workouts, blues and tape experimentation - quite a masterwork, really. There are a few sections which threaten to overstay their welcome, but with further listens this became less noticeable. 

It’s hard to strip away the “historical” aspect from these recordings, hard to listen without all the “baggage” intruding - indeed, for anyone interested in Wyatt, Soft Machine or the Canterbury Scene, this album is thus pretty essential. I, personally, find myself in a half-way house; “liking” Soft Machine without really listening to them that much. So I’ve tried to listen to them as songs, shorn of historical baggage and what have you; leaving me with some good songs, performed well, and livened up by tape processing - but songs cut into collages of experimentation and lengthy instrumental passages. Sometimes this works beautifully, sometimes the elements get in each others way; multi-tracked solo recordings always carry the danger of self-indulgence - though, to be fair, most of “’68” is quite disciplined. One thing that I can’t get on with, is the spectre of english whimsy which haunts the tracks. This was a prevalent fashion at the time, it would appear, but its a shame to see avant-garde or progressive tendencies deliberately disarmed by “gor blimey guvner” tactics; as if Wyatt (et al) felt embarrassed at their creations. This is expressed here by self-reflecting, chatted conversations, monologues and asides which create a “blokey” atmosphere (as well as reminding me of my first band’s earliest, self-conscious recordings - not a good thing). However, this is a very personal thing; and it doesn’t overly colour the album.